


Remembrance Day Short Story

by 1780AWintersBall



Series: One Chapter, One Story [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canadian Remembrance Day, F/M, Je Me Souviens, Lest We Forget, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 03:01:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12644805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1780AWintersBall/pseuds/1780AWintersBall
Summary: Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson visit Canada to pay their respects to the valiant and brave souls who died and are now remembered through memorials throughout the country.





	Remembrance Day Short Story

Alexander Hamilton stood in front of Flanders Fields.

  There were so many poppies poking their heads out of the ground around the thousands of soldier graves. So many lives were lost in the wars that brought these men here. Their blood was forever stained on the lands they’d fallen in, sealing Canada’s future. It was a grim thought, but a relatively happy ending.

  They’d fought for freedom, and so far, they’d won.

  A gentle breeze had picked up, rustling the little red heads of the thousands of little flowers. Alexander himself wore one of the beautiful poppies on his coat, the breeze ruffling his hair.

  He sighed. He remembered fighting for America, fighting against immense armies. Were these men, now buried in the ground, fighting a war beyond Earth? Beyond Canada? Beyond where living humans could see? Alexander liked to think they were at peace, now, getting the joy and rest they deserved.

  A figure showed up to Alexander’s left, while Thomas Jefferson came to his right. The figure was tall, but not too tall (not nearly as tall as Thomas), and a clean-shaven, long-ish face. He had brown eyes, and slightly graying hair. He had on a military uniform, and seemed to be a Canadian General.

  “I heard you came all the way from America to join us in remembering our war heroes,” said the man, his posture straight but welcoming. He had an air of confidence, as though he’d won something.

  “Yes, sir, we did,” replied Alexander, turning to face the figure.

  The figure put out his hand to Alexander, inviting a shake.

  “General Arthur William Currie, at your service, my good man,” he said good naturedly, as Alexander shook it. Alexander smiled at him.

  “Secretary of Treasury Alexander Hamilton, sir. I assume you’ve met Thomas, then?” asked Alexander.

  “Yes, we did,” Thomas spoke up, not wanting to keep quiet. He nodded at Currie, and gave a polite smile. Currie returned the smile in full, then turned away from Flanders Field.

  “I must be off, I need to be present for the actual assembly. You’ll be there, I hope, you two?”

  “Naturally,” said Alexander and Thomas at the same time. Currie’s smile could have lit up a room, it was so bright.

  “Wonderful! I do hope you enjoy the music, however sad it may seem. Though, I know you have your own Remembrance Day on the same day,” he said, then turned, and was off. Soon, he faded into the background, a small silver wisp all that Thomas and Alexander could see of him, having not truly walked the Earth again since his demise.

  Alexander turned to Thomas, then held out his arm. “Shall we be off? We wouldn’t want to miss anything.”

  Thomas took Alexander’s arm, then grinned down at the smaller man. “Of course, let us be off. We might even meet some other influential Canadians while we walk.”

  They left in quite the same fashion Currie had, transforming themselves into tiny pricks of glowing ethereal light.

  No living mortal noticed them, but with every single one of the crosses that lined Flanders Fields and every single name and grave on Vimy Ridge, the ghosts of the bodies buried beneath them and with them had come up for the one day of the year to once again walk with the living. With each and every thought of remembrance that ran through a living person’s head, the ghost of the remembered lit up and stood tall. The joy that every ghost felt to see their country so full of life and thriving because of how well they’d fought in the war was incalculable. Every time a horn blew the last notes of ‘The Last Post’ and ‘Rouse’, if you squinted hard enough, you could just make you the figures of thousands, holding one hand to their forehead in a salute, while keeping a bright crimson poppy over their heart.

  May we always remember the sacrifice these souls gave to release our country and let us be free, may we always remember the hardships and horrors they faced to let us be happy. May we always remember what they wanted for us, and what they gave to give their wishes to us. May we always remember them.

 

Lest We Forget - Je Me Souviens

 

**Author's Note:**

> That you for reading this short story. I know it's really short, but it's filled with my emotions. I'm posting it only 5-6 days before Remembrance Day, and I wanted to do something for it. I hold this day very close to my heart, and I feel it was unfair to demand the lives of so many people, men, husbands, sons, orphans, but the outcome has been a pretty great country, a country we call Canada. As a trumpet in my band, and as the best in my band, I'll be playing Last Post and Rouse for the assembly, and honestly, I'm honoured.
> 
> I seriously can't say this enough: Lest We Forget.  
> Lest we forget their sacrifices, lest we forget what they fought for, lest we forget them, and their bravery, their courage. Lest We Forget.
> 
> Again, thank you, and have a wonderful Remembrance Day.


End file.
